Page 42 of Entwined
Without another word, Vaughn turned and stormed out of the office, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, trying to steady myself. The sexual tension between us was palpable, almost unbearable, but I couldn’t afford to give in. Not now. Not ever. Vaughn was dangerous in more ways than one, and I needed to stay focused. There was too much at stake.
But as I sat down at my desk, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning, that things were about to get far more complicated than I had ever anticipated.
The Wickshire deal went off without a hitch, and the success only deepened Vaughn’s frustration. The board's approval and the subsequent seven-dollar rise in our stock had silenced his objections, but the tension between us had only grown more obvious.
The day after the deal, on my birthday—Valentine’s Day—I woke up with a heaviness I couldn’t shake. I called in sick, unable to face the world, and sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows in my penthouse, cradling a cup of tea. The snow outside was falling steadily, covering the patio pavers in a pristine blanket of white. The sight should have been calming, but instead, it brought tears to my eyes.
I couldn’t stop thinking about last year, when Colson was so sick, so close to death. In three weeks, it would be the anniversary of his passing. The thought clawed at my insides, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, drawn to the balcony like a moth to a flame.
I slipped into my robe and stepped outside, the bitter wind slicing through me like a knife. The snow crunched under my slippers as I walked toward the railing, the cold seeping into my bones.
“COLSON!” I screamed into the wind, the sound of his name torn from my throat, raw and desperate.
The tears came faster now, mingling with the snowflakes that clung to my hair and shoulders. I gripped the railing, staring out at the avenue below, feeling the darkness descend with the fading light. The world was silent, blanketed in white, and I was numb—numb from the cold, numb from the grief that had taken root in my heart and refused to let go.
“Josephine.”
The voice startled me, and for a moment, I thought it was Colson. I looked up, searching the darkening sky, but there was nothing.
“Joey, what are you doing?”
This time, the voice was clearer, closer. I turned my head to see Vaughn standing in the doorway, his face etched with concern. I didn’t know how he got in or why but it was comforting to know he was here.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the wind.
The world tilted, and my knees buckled as the cold overwhelmed me. Vaughn was at my side in an instant, scooping me up in his arms. I mumbled incoherently, my body trembling uncontrollably as he carried me inside. Warm air enveloped me as the door clicked shut behind us.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Vaughn’s voice was laced with anger, but there was something else there too—something softer, more vulnerable.
My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself sitting on the vanity in the primary bathroom. Vaughn knelt in front of me, removing my wet slippers and rubbing my feet to restore warmth. His hands were firm and gentle at the same time, and I couldn’t stop the chattering of my teeth as I tried to form words.
“Joey, why?” he asked again, his tone more insistent.
“I don’t know,” I repeated, my voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t…”
“You need a bath to warm you up,” Vaughn interrupted, his voice a low rumble. He turned on the faucet, testing the water with his hand before turning back to me, his focus on my frozen feet.
I let out a shaky breath as I watched him, my mind spinning. “Why are you always saving me?” I asked, my fingers finding their way into his hair, tangling in the thick strands.
“Because you need someone to do it,” he replied simply, his gaze steady as he continued to warm my feet.
I leaned back against the mirror, letting the warmth from his hands seep into my skin. The sound of the water filling the tub was soothing, almost hypnotic, and for a moment, I allowed myself to relax.
Vaughn rose to his feet, searching the cabinet next to the vanity until he found a container of bath beads. He tossed them into the water, and the room was soon filled with the sweet scent of vanilla. It reminded me of better days, of times when I wasn’t so lost.
“I don’t…” I started to protest, but the words died in my throat as Vaughn leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll let you get undressed,” he said softly, stepping back to give me space.
I sighed as he left the room, the door closing quietly behind him. Slowly, I shed my wet robe and pajamas, slipping into the bath, the warm water enveloping me like a cocoon. The bubbles rose around me, scented with vanilla, and I felt the tension in my muscles begin to ease.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Vaughn didn’t wait for a response before stepping inside, holding two glasses of white wine. He handed one to me, his eyes searching my face.
“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender.
I should have felt exposed, vulnerable, sitting naked in a tub with only bubbles to hide me from his gaze. But all I felt was gratitude. Gratitude for the warmth, for the wine, for his presence.
“No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my birthday.”
